


Forever

by ditheringmind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, M/M, Mentions of OCD, Messy Derek, Stiles Stilinski Comforts Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22400173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditheringmind/pseuds/ditheringmind
Summary: “Hey,” the message says. Just that nothing more. Easily ignored. If it were important, there would be more detail or Derek’s phone would ring. He shoves the anxiety-inducing technology back under his belly. He is exhausted once again, just the possibility of being needed to have to pull himself together, to appear normal. It makes his bones ache
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 5
Kudos: 141





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own and I'm sure there are plenty but hopefully still readable. And I really don't know how to use AO3 yet so if things look a little wonky that why lol

Derek Hale's life is in a constant state of chaos, from the typical monster of the week to the ruff state of his loft. The unwashed dishes piled high on the counters and in the sink, empty water bottles and clothes carelessly tossed across his bedroom floor. Piles stacked high in every corner like totems marking his every failure, moldy food mocking him from the shelf in his refrigerator. To the dust motes hanging in the air circling him, making him breathe them in gumming up his lungs. And yet despite all the chaos around him, Derek lays in bed, pulled down as if a weight were crushing him fusing him to the soft surface of the mattress.

Tomorrow. Derek will clean tomorrow. He will have more energy tomorrow, but for now, all he can do is slowly roll over in the tangle of blankets to stare at the brick wall of his room, at the cobwebs waltzing across the ceiling in time with the slowly circulating air. He buries his face in his pillow trying to block the stench of fear and worthlessness that hangs thick in the air. 

It’s easy to slide into slumber, easy to close his eyes, and shut everything out. Breathe through the painful thumping of his heart even though he hasn’t moved in hours and hours, it beats hard and fast, pumping blood to his extremities, making them tingle, making him dizzy. He imagines his bed levitating, spinning in slow circles.

Derek’s phone buzzes from its hiding place trapped between his body and the mattress. He pulls it out, and it’s over warm in his hand. It takes him a few tries to punch in his passcode; his head aches and his eyes blur from inactivity, from sleeping too long. His heartbeat skyrockets, the thump thump thump crushing him. What will be asked of him? What will he have to give? How much of himself will he have to give away?

“Hey,” the message says. Just that nothing more. Easily ignored. If it were important, there would be more detail or Derek’s phone would ring. He shoves the anxiety-inducing technology back under his belly. He is exhausted once again, just the possibility of being needed of having to pull himself together, to appear normal. It makes his bones ache.

Derek is on the edge of sleep when his phone buzzes again and again and again. 

‘Come over.’

‘I made too much food.’

‘I know you're not doing anything. No excuse. Come. Please, I’m lonely…’

Stiles. It’s worse then if there was a monster. He must go. Has never been able to say no to the younger man.

He goes doesn’t shower, though, stays in his sweats and T-shirt. Climbs up the side of the house instead of knocking on the door. Stiles room is spotless. Everything in its place. Almost OCD in its preciseness. He knows if he were to pull open a drawer or the closet, everything would be perfect, color-coordinated even. The room smells clean, just the vague scent of teenage spunk.

Derek climbs between the crisp, clean sheets and presses his face into Stiles’s pillow. It smells like him even washed; it holds that coffee and ozone scent. 

Everything about this room quiets his mind and slows his heart. He breathes easier he is lighter. 

Derek drifts, not asleep yet not awake either. Sometime later, the bed dips, cold air brushes his back when the blankets lift than the warm press of a body against his. Arms that had held him up when he was drowning comforted him when he was mourning and helped him up when he had fallen, circle around him. Palms flat against his stomach and chest. He rests his head on the comforting strength of the bent arm behind him.

Hot breath ghosts along his skin, making his hair stand on end, and a cold nose runs from the knobby bone at the base of his neck to the tender flesh of his earlobe, raising goosebumps all over his body from the tender caress.

Derek rolls over and slots his leg between Stiles’s. They are so close within the circle of their arms, nose’s almost touching, breathing the same moist air. He can’t look away from the large doe-like amber eyes. Stiles runs his thumb across Derek’s cheekbone spreading wetness in its wake. Derek takes in a shaky breath; he hadn’t even known he was crying. 

Stiles tilts his head just that half-inch more and brushes his lips against Derek’s in a painfully sweet way; it brings another wave of tears down Derek flushed face. Stiles pulls away. 

They have never been anything to each other; they have been everything. 

Derek closes the nonexistent distance and seals his mouth over Stiles’s. It’s slow at first, small nips at the lips hesitant tongues brushing together. Shared breathes. Until Stiles pushes Derek onto his back and leans over him, forcing his way into his mouth and Derek lets him, lets him deepen the kiss he gets lost in it, the feel of it, of Stiles. Derek opens his legs, and Stiles settles between them, his weight comforting on top of Derek. They fit.

Stiles pulls back, breathing hard and smiles, just an upturn at the corner of his mouth. He leans back down and kisses the tip of Derek’s nose, each cheek, his forehead before coming back down to Derek’s mouth and sucking his bottom lip between his plush pink ones.

Derek is painfully hard, and he can feel Stiles hard length rubbing against his stomach, but that’s not what he wants not what he needs right now. And as if Stils can see inside Derek’s mind, he so easily flips them again and it feels so right so good to let someone else take control. Stiles moves them around until they are both on their sides facing each other. Derek’s face tucked against Stiles neck. They fit like puzzle pieces. 

“Stay with me,” Stiles says

Derek doesn’t know if he means tonight or forever; he hopes it’s the latter.

“Forever.” Derek breathes; he can feel Stiles smile again where his cheek is resting on the top of Derek’s head. 

“Forever.” Stiles echos back.


End file.
